Rogue Tory

by Denis Smith

  FOR TWELVE DAYS IN SEPTEMBER 1962 THE DIEFENBAKERS HAD A BRIEF OFFICIAL visit to London for another Commonwealth prime ministers’ conference, with the usual hectic but pleasurable round of entertainment at 10 Downing Street and Buckingham Palace. For Diefenbaker the conference itself was less pleasant, since this was Macmillan’s bow to Commonwealth consultation over Britain’s application to enter the European community. As the delegation travelled to London, Basil Robinson found Diefenbaker “crotchety” and determined not to follow the advice of his cabinet and officials to play down his indignation. Macmillan led off discussion on September 10 and was followed by his chief negotiator, Edward Heath, whose long exposition, in Macmillan’s judgment, left the prime ministers “exhausted – and I hope impressed.” But for two days after that he faced “a broadside attack” led by Diefenbaker, whose speech, Macmillan felt, was “false and vicious.” Diefenbaker repeated his demand for secure access to the British market for Canadian agricultural products, and predicted that President de Gaulle would not permit British entry to the market. Macmillan was furious and depressed by the antics of this “mountebank,” this “very crooked man … so self-centred as to be a sort of caricature of Mr. Gladstone” who thought only of his own political advantage. But Macmillan realized that Diefenbaker was so deaf that he probably couldn’t follow the speeches, and took satisfaction in presenting an innocuous conference communiqué for approval, knowing that Diefenbaker’s deafness allowed him to “pass from one clause to another fairly rapidly.” Robert Menzies, after initial protests, grew reasonable and “reverted to his favourite sport of teasing Diefenbaker.” The communiqué translated all these goings-on into “the frank and friendly atmosphere which characterises Commonwealth meetings.” The press – fed by the British delegation’s hostile briefings – pointed to Diefenbaker as the dog-in-the-manger.90

  THE PRIME MINISTER RETURNED TO OTTAWA ONLY A WEEK BEFORE THE OPENING OF parliament on September 27. Diefenbaker had recorded his intention to create an inner cabinet and a confidential economic advisory council “to be consulted on fundamental policies,” as Oakley Dalgleish had suggested. During the early autumn, Wallace McCutcheon made some tentative contacts with prominent bankers and businessmen,91 but as cabinet and House business flooded the agenda and Diefenbaker followed his erratic ways, the proposal drifted off into obscurity. The speech from the throne was a compendium of well-intentioned promises: a resolution to repatriate the Constitution from Britain; a federal-provincial conference on a distinctive flag and other national symbols; partial self-government for the Northwest Territories; an Indian claims commission; a national economic advisory board; increased farm credits; and initial planning for a national system of contributory old age pensions.92 The government had reason for renewed hope in one respect: By mid-September the emergency economic program had successfully restored Canada’s currency reserves and an attitude of confidence among the international financial community. Interest rates fell steadily during the autumn, and some of the import surcharges were removed as Diefenbaker had promised.93

  Writing to Leslie Frost on October 7, the prime minister was confident: “The session,” he reported, “has started out better than many had thought possible.”94 The reason was not that the government made any special impact (no legislation had been introduced), but rather that the opposition parties were careful to avoid any combined votes that might defeat it. As the session continued, the Liberal opposition gradually became more aggressive – and more frustrated by the absence of any cabinet policies to attack. Against the advice of George Nowlan, who urged the introduction of a new budget, cabinet agreed in October to seek interim supply covering most of the fiscal year, to avoid a major budget debate, and to reintroduce the budget resolutions from the previous April. The House filled its time with drawn-out and rancorous discussion of the estimates.95

  Behind the scenes, shifting groups of ministers engaged in talk about how to deal with an inadequate prime minister. Diefenbaker had grown more irritable over the summer, more inclined to rage and complain at the slights of the press and the opposition. As he broadcast his complaints at every interview, his colleagues talked to one another with mounting concern.

  They confided to friends who, in turn, spoke to other friends, and soon it was said that John Diefenbaker was sick, close to a nervous breakdown, under his doctor’s care, and ready to resign at an early date. Members of his immediate entourage tried to encourage him. They asked the Leader to be less emotional, and begged him to use more discretion in his conversations with outsiders. Never one to accept advice too freely, the Tory Leader gave indications that he might mend his ways, but he kept on worrying and talking.96

  “The cabinet was not at ease with itself or with its prime minister,” Davie Fulton recalled. For perhaps one-third of its members, the problems of governing the country gave way to the problem of changing the leadership. “The uncertainty,” Gordon Churchill remembered, “and the belief that Mr. Diefenbaker was not sure whether he wanted to remain leader were accompanied by all sorts of plans to relieve him of the leadership; and much energy was expended in the fall of 1962 trying to find ways of replacing him … A group of dissidents came to me asking me to urge Mr. Diefenbaker to resign, knowing full well that if I did so, Mr. Diefenbaker would almost certainly have stepped down. But I refused to do it, and some of them always held that against me thereafter.”97

  This was not organized revolt. It was frustrated and directionless complaint, stimulated by electoral failure, economic confusion, the prime minister’s aging and loss of self-confidence. Very often, the vehemence of complaint was proportional to the intake of hard liquor. One group of ministers, including Nowlan, Halpenny, and McCutcheon, began to meet regularly in McCutcheon’s office to drink and gossip at midday. They were joined by a varying band of drinkers and non-drinkers, freely exchanging forbidden thoughts about a replacement for the prime minister. One day when Churchill dropped by, McCutcheon asked whether he would be prepared to take over if Diefenbaker resigned. Churchill replied that he had told Diefenbaker the same day that if he departed, George Nowlan should take over. “That,” said Churchill, “was indicative of the whole atmosphere of the time.”98

  NO SINGLE ISSUE OF POLICY DOMINATED THESE EARLY AND FORMLESS CONCLAVES. The government was in decay, and no one knew what to do about it. What brought the House and the country to attention – and the cabinet to its last paroxysm – was the Cuban missile crisis. At 10 am on October 22, 1962, Diefenbaker was informed that Livingston Merchant, the retired American ambassador to Canada, would arrive at 5 pm to brief him with an urgent message from President Kennedy. The White House had announced that Kennedy would speak to the nation on television at 7 pm.

  The subject was Cuba. Since early September, reports and partisan warnings proliferated in the United States that the Soviet Union was sending offensive military weapons to the Castro regime. On September 13 Kennedy warned publicly that the United States “will do whatever must be done to protect its own security and that of its allies” if the Soviets established “an offensive military base of significant capacity” on the Caribbean island.99 On October 15 the Canadian Embassy in Washington reported to Ottawa that the president was under intense pressure over his Cuban policy during the mid-term congressional election campaign. “The sense of national humiliation is so pervading,” the embassy noted, “and the public feeling in favor of ‘doing something about Cuba’ is so strong that it is almost impossible to exaggerate the inflammatory character of the issue. The President and his colleagues are making a creditable attempt to maintain a public sense of perspective and restraint and it is very much in the Canadian interest that this attempt should not fail.” The report urged Ottawa to support recent American measures affecting Soviet air and naval traffic to Cuba as a contribution to moderating the American debate. Ottawa responded positively.100

  On the weekend of October 20-21, Robert Bryce and Norman Robertson learned from at least two sources that the White
House had information that Soviet medium-range missile sites were under construction in Cuba and that a dangerous crisis was imminent. Bryce informed Diefenbaker as the information came in, but he knew nothing about what action the president contemplated.101 Thus Diefenbaker had indirect warning that emergency planning was under way in Washington. Basil Robinson reflected on these events from the prime minister’s perspective.

  He did not know the extent of the evidence or in what way the United States would react. But he had had more than twenty-four hours to get steamed up about what he was to be told and perhaps also what he would be asked to do. Despite what he had learned in advance, it would have been completely out of character if he had not been upset at being presented with the evidence of the Soviet missiles and the outline of the president’s plans, at a stage when he could do little more than acknowledge their receipt. It was, after all, a very important development for the defence of North America, and it had been he who had entered (hastily, it will be recalled) into the NORAD agreement five years before. That agreement had underlined the importance which the two governments attached to the ‘fullest possible consultation on all matters affecting the joint defence of North America.’ The prime minister’s resentment at the absence of genuine advance consultation should have come as no surprise.102

  Kennedy informed Harold Macmillan of his plans by cable on Sunday evening, and dispatched emissaries on Monday to Ottawa, Paris, and Bonn to brief his other close allies. He apologized to Macmillan for deciding on action before consultation. The problem, he explained, was the need for security and speed. Macmillan appreciated Kennedy’s position and, in a telephone conversation the next evening, pledged complete solidarity.103

  At the White House the mood was “excited, almost chaotic” as Kennedy prepared his television address.104 On Sunday afternoon US missile crews were placed on alert, mobile forces and aircraft were moved to Florida, and Strategic Air Command bombers went onto advanced airborne alert. Through the day on Monday, Kennedy carried on his regular public schedule while continuing his urgent private consultations and briefings.

  During the day External Affairs prepared a background memorandum for the prime minister, summarizing its knowledge of events before Merchant’s visit. “We are aware,” it said, “through intelligence channels that as of October 16 the U.S.A. had satisfied itself through photographic and other intelligence media that offensive ballistic missiles with a range of between 1100 and 2200 miles were being installed in Cuba in sufficient number (an estimated 40) to directly threaten the security of U.S.A.”105 The department judged that – in the light of the president’s previous public warnings – “the conclusion is unavoidable that the U.S.A. is about to embark on some counter action.” This might involve a full blockade, or a “swift invasion and occupation,” or bombing of the missile sites, an ultimatum to the USSR, and “full public disclosure … of the new Soviet capability in Cuba.” Any of these actions was likely, the department thought, to lead at once to a Soviet countermove in Berlin – at the least a total blockade as in 1948-49. The situation “could clearly rapidly escalate into global war, and with the United Nations in session, it can confidently be assumed that some international endeavour will be made to avert war and bring about a negotiated settlement.” The parallel was Suez in 1956, “when international action to contain and put an end to the fighting was instituted almost simultaneously with the national action taken by France and the United Kingdom to protect what they considered to be vital interests. The question arises as to whether there is again a role for Canada to play.”

  The department had a specific suggestion.

  The only action which could be taken in a United Nations context which might avert measures which could lead to conflict, would be a move in the Security Council to have a group of “neutral” nations – perhaps the 8 nonaligned members of the Eighteen Nations Disarmament Committee – conduct an on-site investigation in Cuba of the U.S.A. Government’s charge that that country has permitted the installation on its territory of offensive nuclear missiles. If vetoed in the Security Council or otherwise rejected by the Soviet Union and Cuba, the issue could be taken to the floor of the Assembly where an overwhelming vote in favour of such a proposal could be expected. Even if such a move failed to result in the admission of an investigation team to Cuba, it would at least have the virtue of confirming and exposing the aggressive designs which the U.S.A. maintains the Soviet Union has on North America. To be fully effective such a proposal would have to be discussed immediately with the U.S.A. Government before President Kennedy makes his announcement at 7 p.m. tonight as the possibility cannot be ruled out that his announcement may be of measures already ordered against Cuba.106

  Diefenbaker drew double emphasis lines opposite this paragraph. The department had recommended an appeal to the president before his speech to “avert measures which could lead to conflict,” and it did so in language that was bound to alert Diefenbaker’s interest. Here, it implied, was Diefenbaker’s Suez: his chance to match the achievement of Mike Pearson; his chance, perhaps, to win a Nobel Prize. In these delicate circumstances – facing a direct confrontation between the superpowers and in knowledge of the strained relations between Kennedy and Diefenbaker – the suggestion could be seen as either a counsel of prudence, or a careless appeal to a troubled prime minister’s vanity. If Diefenbaker had followed the advice, there would at least have been private consultation with Washington before any public statement. A rebuff would presumably have involved no public embarrassment. The department would perhaps have been wiser not to give Diefenbaker ideas.

  By some slipup, or calculation, Diefenbaker did not receive the memorandum until he returned home after his interview with Merchant, so there was no chance for any consultation by telephone with Kennedy before the president’s broadcast.107 At 5:15 pm Merchant arrived at the East Block with the American chargé d’affaires, Ivan White, and three intelligence officers.108 Diefenbaker, Howard Green, and Douglas Harkness received them in the cabinet room. Merchant gave Diefenbaker a letter from Kennedy and a copy of the president’s speech, both of them explaining that the United States possessed “clear evidence” that Soviet offensive nuclear weapons had been installed on Cuban soil, and announcing a naval and air blockade “whose object is to prevent the introduction into Cuba of further nuclear weapons, and to lead to the elimination of the missiles that are already in place.” Kennedy added that he was requesting an urgent meeting of the UN Security Council, where the United States would present a resolution calling for the removal of “missile bases and other offensive weapons in Cuba under the supervision of United Nations observers.” He hoped Canada would “work actively with us and speak forthrightly in support of the above program in the United Nations.”109 Merchant explained that the evidence had been gained by aerial surveillance, and he showed the Canadians large intelligence photographs of the missile sites.

  Merchant felt that “the early minutes of our talk were a bit difficult.” Diefenbaker was “somewhat brusque in manner,” offended that he had not been consulted earlier, and “openly sceptical in attitude concerning the missile menace until the full intelligence briefing had been given him.” Harkness received what he thought were “hazy” responses to his questions about the stages of alert of American forces, and expressed the view that a Soviet-American confrontation at sea would be more likely to cause general war than an American landing in Cuba. Diefenbaker requested a single brief change in Kennedy’s text, which Merchant achieved. By the end, Merchant believed that Diefenbaker’s “whole attitude swung around to sympathetic understanding and I had thought a willingness to give public support to the President.” Merchant left the meeting to return to Washington, believing that Diefenbaker would not make any public statement until the next day.110

  Diefenbaker returned home to watch the president’s address, and only then did he read the memorandum from Howard Green intended for use before Kennedy’s speech. Soon afterwards Pearson called Diefenbak
er to ask for a statement in the House in response to the president’s declaration. The prime minister could hardly refuse the request in such ominous circumstances. With his thoughts still jumbled, Diefenbaker jotted down a few phrases – “a sombre & challenging speech,” “no time for panic,” “time for quiet calmness and resolve and action in UN,” “anything that looks like mobilization will be dangerous,” and a reference to the key proposal from the Green memorandum: “Have a group of ‘neutral’ nations perhaps the 8 nonaligned members of the 18 nations disarmament committee conduct an on site inspection to ascertain if offensive nuclear weapons are installed.” The prime minister was driven quickly back to Parliament Hill, reflecting grimly on a situation that could “rapidly escalate into global war.”

  With the notes in his hands, Diefenbaker told the House that he was responding to Pearson’s request in order to appeal for unity and calm in a dangerous time. He did not challenge Kennedy’s assertions, and insisted that “the existence of these bases or launching pads is not defensive but offensive.” He did not criticize the United States for lack of consultation. But he challenged Soviet claims that their activities in Cuba were defensive, and he suggested inspection by an independent UN delegation to confirm the facts. If the suggestion had been made before the American ultimatum, no one could reasonably have seen it as a challenge to Kennedy’s claims. But now the situation had subtly changed. The charges had been made, the ultimatum issued, and US naval forces were moving to the blockade lines. Before 7 pm only the Soviets had posed any threat to the peace; now, by their acts, the Americans did so too. As he concluded, Diefenbaker appealed for suggestions that might diminish “the obvious tensions that must grip men and women all over the world tonight … Our duty, as I see it, is not to fan the flames of fear but to do our part to bring about relief from the tensions, the great tensions, of the hour.” Pearson agreed with the prime minister that the United Nations “should be used for the purpose of verifying what is going on.”111